


Stimuli

by AutisticSocks



Series: Autistic Jonathan Reid [1]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: ADHD headcanon, And Autism, Autistic Jonathan Reid, Edgar Swansea (mentioned) - Freeform, Elisabeth Ashbury (mentioned) - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Geoffrey McCullum has ADHD, Geoffrey McCullum not being an ass, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mary Reid (mentioned) - Freeform, Mild Hurt/Comfort, autistic headcanon, how does one title things?, i mean friends have the link to the doc I wrote it on bUT STILL, my tagging is everywhere can you tell i have adhd, no beta we die like men, not explicitly mcreid but can be read as, what the fuck even are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticSocks/pseuds/AutisticSocks
Summary: Jonathan Reid had saved London and had been willingly left to rot as the city recovers without him. . . .. . .Even with his heightened sense he could not have predicted where the help he longed for was to come from.orJonathan has a meltdown from overstimulation and Geoffrey offers help where he can.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Series: Autistic Jonathan Reid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079936
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Stimuli

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time really publishing something I've written...keep that in mind going forward, it may not be the best.

Even before becoming an Ekon Jonathan Reid was sensitive to stimuli in-put; certain sounds making him feel like he were being stabbed in the ears, lights always too bright and causing him headaches, touches and textures that felt like his skin were being burned or ripped off, smells that made his stomach churn. It was overwhelming before his unlife.  
Even before becoming an Ekon Jonathan Reid was intensely attentive, hyperfocused, and hypervigilant. Ever since he was a young boy he had been this way; always noticing the details and never seeing the bigger picture until it was pointed out to him, always looking for what could be in what already was. He saw things others didn’t before his unlife.  
Even before becoming an Ekon Jonathan Reid was considered socially inept and awkward; not sure how to go about conversations, often missing the point and not understanding what someone meant or why they had said what they did. He struggled through social interactions before his unlife.

Becoming an Ekon heightened his senses, his focus, and withdrew from his social interactions. He thought he had managed these things poorly before, but in his unlife, looking back he sees that he was doing the bare minimum of managing it, and it was growing increasingly more difficult to manage. Things became much too overwhelming, much too fast now. It could almost give him whiplash how fast he went from feeling fine to feeling like he were being torn apart by the stimuli around him. Thirty (30) years of hiding and managing these things were lost the moment his unlife began. 

His only saviour from having complete utter meltdowns every night was the hyperfocus he had on the epidemic and the citizens of London. Were it not for constantly being on the move, constantly exerting pent up energy through fighting Skals, Sewer Beasts, and any creature unfortunate enough to pick a losing battle with him, the continuous and ever-mounting amount of tasks he had to complete...Were it not for the purpose of ending the Epidemic, curing the source, he would have been lost to turmoils of his body and mind. He had loathed distractions when he was alive, human; he was grateful for them now.

He had been grateful when they were there, and now in the aftermath he longed for these distractions again. Jonathan Reid had saved London and had been willingly left to rot as the city recovers without him. He had been left with nothing but his aching body, heavy heart, and broken spirit; his loved ones carried away by the merciful gift of death. He felt he had no one to help or re-guide him through this unlife, teach him how to help himself before things became the nightmarish anguish he felt as a child going through too much stimulation at once. Even with his heightened sense he could not have predicted where the help he longed for was to come from.

\---

When Geoffrey caught wind through a report that the champion Doctor had returned from an abrupt leave seeming worse-for-ware, he wasn’t entirely surprised; the man had been through hell and back, shit took toll on people- even leeches could like shit when they’d been through hell. He had been, almost anxiously, awaiting this news ever since Dr Reid had left him standing alone in that cemetery with the promise of defeating the vampire epidemic. And, unsurprisingly, the promise had been kept; the number of Skals and the likes in the streets dwindling every night since then thanks to the work of Priwen. 

While McCullum hadn’t promised to speak with the leech Doctor again, he decided on a whim that he wasn’t going to rest properly until he could, much to his second’s dismay. It had taken upward of two weeks to track the Ekon down; finding Reid had resigned from the Pembroke shortly after his return, reports of him being through Whitechapel and the East End frequently, knew where his family home was in the West End, he was impossible to pin down in one location. Geoffrey was near his wits end when he had stumbled upon the Ekon in the very place he last saw him: the Whitechapel Cemetery. 

\---

Shortly after his return, Jonathan was forced to resign from the Pembroke or give away what he was to the staff- he had rathered he resigned and used his time to help those who cannot afford it than ruin what little the Pembroke staff thought of him. He did just that, moving about the districts to aid those who needed it, avoiding Priwen ‘lest they require help, taking care of Skals here and there while he was at it. He was desperately trying to fill the growing void in his chest, to quell the mounting meltdown, to do anything than to be left with his senses and acknowledge them.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out he was wearing himself thin, even he knew what he was doing. He had found himself in the dreaded Cemetery, having finished his rounds and allowing his feet to carry his mindless form wherever they would have him. He supposed it was fitting, if he were going to be anywhere while being stuck with the memories of the past month it may as well be here. 

He fell pathetically to his knees afront Mary’s grave, hunched over with his hands balled into fists and pressing against his eyes, he didn’t want this. “Mary.. Oh, Mary.. I’ve kept my promise but at what cost… Everyone who’s ever helped me is gone.. You, Edgar, Elisabeth.. Mother doesn’t recognize me enough to help, and,” he huffs a laugh, “Avery’s never been great with helping when I’m dealing with.. well, this.” 

He pauses his monologue, finally letting the first sob of many out. Sobs soon turned to cries as he clutched his arms around his middle and leaned to his knees, “I’m– I’m sorry, Mary, I’m sorry,” he quietly repeats like a mantra until the sounds in the night become too much, he releases his clutch around his middle to press his hands to his ears and shake is head, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as he continued to sob and cry. How he wished to have his Mary here, being the grounding and shielding he needed when everything became too much, what he wouldn’t trade to be in her arms like when they were young, to hear her soothing voice quietly shush his cries and bring him back down from the high of it all.

In his stupor he hadn’t noticed a very concerned Geoffrey McCullum approaching his crying, shaking form; didn’t notice him until the light from the moon behind his eyelids went black. He barely opened his eyes, just enough to gage who it was that had gotten so close. To say he was surprised to see McCullum would be an understatement, he was almost mortified. He closed his eyes again and leaned away from the man, cowering in on himself; he wasn’t sure what the man was here for but he assumed the man would think he’d finally gone feral and put an end to him– part of him wishes he would. But an assault never came. 

After a moment's notice, he peeked again to see the man still there, crouched just enough to be unmenacing and still block the light above him, his hands held carefully in front of him palms up in a feign attempt to show he wasn’t here as an enemy. Jonathan sniffed, trying to calm down enough to ask just what the hell McCullum thought he was doing, but when he opened his mouth he just sobbed. He barely registered the pained empathic look in McCullum’s eyes before he squeezed his own shut again, a new bout of bloody tears overflowing past his lashes and streaking down his cheeks. He didn’t want the man to see him like this, not because it was embarrassing, but because he felt he’d be seen as a monster- oh how Mary had chased that away was beyond him but he ached for it now. 

When he thought for sure McCullum would decide to end him, seeing him in such a state, the man in question ever-so gently took a hold of his wrists, urging him to uncover his ears. Instead he opened his eyes, peering at him through cloudy, red vision as tears continued to stain his cheeks. He shook his head with a pained sob in response to the silent request to move his hands, surprised that it was an accepted answer. McCullum seemed to think for a moment, seeming to figure that Jonathan would still hear him despite his hands, “What can I do?” came the question, it hit him like a bullet. He would have never expected, let alone request for, McCullum to help him. 

He thought about the question for a beat before answering hoarsely, quietly, “Away.. from here… please.” McCullum nodded his head with a quiet, “ok,” before carefully helping Jonathan to his shaky but stable feet, letting him keep his hands covering his ears. He closed his eyes again, feeling a heavy hand on the small of his back guiding him; he wasn’t sure where exactly he was being led to, and though he was wary of trusting McCullum, if the man’s reaction to finding him was anything to go by then he could at least trust McCullum would take him some place safe, safer than the Cemetery in the middle of the night. As he was led, his sobs slowly turned into hiccups, and when he opened his eyes again he found himself in a small room; fireplace lit for soft light and warmth, a rug with a few pillows in front of it, multiple chairs strewn about the place and a single two-seater (2) couch against the wall, as well as maybe four (4) or five (5) foot-lockers are with the chairs. It seemed to be a Priwen post, somewhere the guards would come to rest if they couldn't make it back to headquarters in a safe or timely manner. After an incredibly brief scan of the place he was led to the couch with the silent command he sit down, and after the night he’s had the couch may as well be a cloud or safe haven. 

Jonathan sat down with McCullum, drawing a shuttered breath he didn’t really need before he slowly moved his hands away from his ears and clasping them together against his chest. The room was quiet aside from the crackling of the fire, there was no outside noise getting in, he was thankful for this consideration on McCullum’s part. He looked to the man sitting beside him but didn’t meet his eyes, he did not have the necessary energy to maintain eye contact or socially acceptable behaviour; he doubted McCullum would mind seeing as he wanted to help him.

“D’you care to share what happened back there with me, Reid?” McCullum asks in a hushed voice, careful of how loud he is to avoid overstimulating Jonathan again. He hoped the man understood his hesitance in sharing his experience, especially with the man who’d wanted to kill him just two (2) weeks ago but is now attempting to console him through a meltdown. “I don-... It’s hard..to explain,” he glanced at McCullum's face from his shoulder, finding a look that said he was willing to wait. Taking a deep breath to settle his rising nerves before he continued, “I’m- It was all..too much, the stimuli of..everything around me. I’ve been- well trying to distract..myself...from it. I guess it finally..caught up to me.” He didn’t meet McCullum’s gaze as the man regarded him for a few moments, lightly twisting his hands together in their clasp against his chest as he waited for a reply. 

“I know you probably won’t trust my word given the way I’ve treated ya in the past, and I don’t blame you for it, but.. I understand what you’re saying,” McCullum paused, sighing as he continued, “I see it happen to some of them in the Guard.. Have it happen to me sometimes.”  
Jonathan waited for him to finish before finally asking, “Why tell me?”  
He could see McCullum grin from his stare at his shoulder before he answered, “Tryin’ to tell ya you’re not alone in dealing with it, Reid. Might not happen t’everybody but ya don’t have to suffer alone if you have the choice not to.” Ah, that would make sense. He could understand now why McCullum had wanted to help instead of putting a bullet in his head, the man knew what was happening and wasn’t perturbed by it.

“Oh.. well..thank you, I suppose,” he sniffed, bringing his sleeve over his hand to wipe his blood-tear stained cheeks as he spoke. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to say, he’d never received help from someone he barely knew, he felt like it should be awkward but McCullum seemed to be taking it in stride. He thought more about what McCullum had said, that this kind of thing, overstimulation, happened to him too. Perhaps he and McCullum were not as different as the man would have him believe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it <3


End file.
